lightening up

I hate to say it, but I do think blondes may have more fun. I consider myself a blonde at heart. I was a white blonde kid, a medium blonde young adult, and full adulthood brought with it a shade somewhere between "cardboard box" and "dull tree bark". Not a pretty shade. Expensive, time consuming highlights ensued- I do believe that if I totaled up the amount spent on my blonde hue over the past 9 years, I could buy J that airplane he wants. Last fall, I had my beloved highlights filled in with lowlights and just let it grow. I was depressed, I felt dark, I just didn't care to deal with my blondeness. It was pretty at first, with the stylists' strategically placed mahogany pieces, but as that uninspired natural shade took over...not pretty. (Take a close look at the 20 week belly photo below for proof.) It became so homely that when I asked J last week if he'd mind me spending $200 on highlights (despite the fact that we're less frivolous with our cash these days, what with that mile long "ridiculously expensive and likely very useless things we need for baby" list) he responded with a cheery "yes! That's a GREAT idea! Shall I drive you?" Gotta love the man for his support. Or hate him for his closeted lust for blondes. Whatever.

I had my highlights, and I'm happy. I looked in the rearview mirror on the way home and thought- "now THIS is me". The dark hair didn't fit, seemed a disguise of sorts. It reflected a dark mood, a dark outlook, a desire to blend into the background. ((I mean NO offense to brunettes- those that are meant to be brunette are stunning and I'm envious of that "Kelly Kapowski" look I'll never rock- I'm just not meant for the darker tones.)) I can't help but think my lighter hair reflects my lighter place in life. Like maybe I'm restoring a part of who I was, allowing back a superficial aspect of the happy girl at heart.

My mood has lightened too. Wednesday was a tough day that moved into a tough night, and I woke up Thursday feeling a bit lighter. The fact that a year ago today I was in surgery, a surgery I never even knew existed before being told by the sad doctor that I'd need one, went by without any tears, just a sigh, a shake of the head. The crusty hospital, the shockingly insensitive anesthesiologist, the overwhelming feeling of emptiness that filled me as the drugs wore off- all seem so distant, so alien- like a story of another person's sad memory. Instead...onward and upward. Today marks 21 weeks. OVER halfway. Closer to the big, anticipatory third trimester than the frightful first trimester. I can't wait. Bring it on- all of it. Even that unsightly little spider vein that appeared overnight where my butt meets my leg, I'll take it- because I'm ready. Ready for what comes next, and just happy as a (pretty blonde) clam to be this damn close, this full of life and hope.